


A Toast To Love

by orphan_account



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Stress, implied eating disorder, mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 00:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13088487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Brendon drops a bomb, which unlike other bombs, does some good by revealing a truth that can be solved and strengthen his relationship with Ryan.





	A Toast To Love

We’re sat lounging about on the sofas of his house, drinking lazily at 3 pm with the curtains closed because his dad isn’t home. I look over to him, all the way on the other sofa, lying across it and decide now is the time I drop the bomb.

“Why are you so skinny, Ry?” I ask him, sick of beating around the bush.

Instead of getting offended, he glares at me questioningly and that’s what confuses me. Sure, he’s probably been expecting me to ask after all the hints I’ve dropped, but it doesn’t explain why he doesn’t snap at me for asking such an intrusive and crude question. It’s like asking someone why they’re so fat.

I’ve even prepared myself an excuse for asking, should he have gotten defensive, but he’s just looking at me. “Do you not eat, or something?” He continues just looking.

He turns his head back and faces the ceiling, showing no emotion, or at least none that I can read.

“Ry,” I say. He doesn’t look. “Ryan.” I repeat more seriously.

“What, Bren?” His voice drips with a monotone.

“Do you not eat?”

He sighs.

He’s not letting me in, so I’ll let myself. I push myself up from the slump I was in and walk over to his sofa.

I perch on it and touch his hand. He pulls away from my touch and my heart falls to the bottom of my chest. I have to say, that was one of the most painful things I’ve ever experienced.

“Ryan, I just care about you.” I tell him sincerely.

“I know.” The lack of words he’s giving me makes this all so painfully slow. I just want to know what’s wrong so I can make it better.

“Talk to me. I’m trying to help.” There’s a burning need residing within me to touch his hand again, or maybe even give him a hug and tell him that it’s all okay.

“You can’t.” 

“Why?”

He fucking sighs again. I wait for him to say something this time.

It takes a while, but finally he speaks, “I get stressed. I lose my appetite. I guess it shows.”

“Ry, that’s not good.” I worry on my lip.

“I know,” he admits. We’re getting somewhere.

“Well, can I make you something to eat now?” I suggest. If I can’t help him emotionally right now, I can at least help him physically.

“I’m really not hungry.”

“Please.”

“Bren, I said I’m not hungry.” He’s always so stubborn; I can see how this has became a problem so easily.

“If you hardly ever eat, then you’re not going to know that you’re hungry. Your body will adapt to the lack of food and make it easier to cope with.”

“It’s not that serious.” He argues and I beg to differ.

"If it’s not that serious, then let me make you a fucking slice of toast.”

“Fine.” He huffs and I quickly get up to make it before he changes his mind.

I find the bread bin, take out two slices and stick them in the toaster. 

While it’s in, I get out the butter and a knife and they pop out by the time I place the plates down. I butter them and slice them and return to Ryan. He sits up as I give him the plate and I sit beside him with a plate for myself so he doesn’t feel too awkward.

“Thanks,” he says dryly before biting some off.

We sit in silence until we’ve both finished.

“Feel better?” I ask him, ever so slightly raising my eyebrows.

“I guess.” He won’t admit it because, as previously mentioned, he’s a stubborn fucker.

“I love you,” I say.

“I love you too.” At least he doesn’t have trouble with that.

I take a mental note to make sure he eats when I’m next with him. “I swear to God, I’ll take care of you.” I promise. He looks at me with eyes that suggest I’m being crazy. “Ryan, don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re being over the top.”

“I’m fucking not. I care about you and your health and I want to be with you for as long as possible. At first, I thought, I don’t know, maybe you just have a metabolism of steel, but now you’ve confirmed to me that you don’t eat a lot and I’m just making sure that you don’t hurt yourself.”

“Okay.”

“Now, can I kiss you?”

He smiles and leans in before I can which reassures me that I’m not the only one feeling this way.


End file.
